Harry Potter and the Clan of The Dragons
by Followers Of Tetsuo
Summary: A boy named Harry Potter awakens with his scar paining him once again. Except, this time, The Dark Lord has paid him a visit...
1. A Knife In The Darkness

Chapter One: A Knife in The Darkness  
  
Privet Drive was quiet as Harry lay in bed, half asleep. It was mid-summer, and his birthday was drawing nearer and nearer. Though the Dursley's never, ever recognized his birthday, he always looked forward to the cakes and pastries his distant friends would send him. He even looked forward to Hagrid's, even though he never dared to consume them. He guessed it was the thought that counted.  
  
Now Harry drifted to sleep, and began a warm dream about what his fifth year would be like, and of what new people he would meet. And then his mind came to Cho, beautiful, graceful Cho. He thought of her face, so pure and silky and smooth. And then, he was there. Harry was back at Hogwarts . He was in the Gryffindor common room. He was sitting in one of the large, plush chairs, a roaring fire in the fireplace, and sitting in front of his was Cho. She was speaking to him, but he couldn't make out what she was saying. Harry saw Cho lean forward to him, and so he did the same. Soon, their foreheads were touching, and Harry felt Cho's lips on his. He embraced her with every ounce of energy he held within him as he felt her tongue slide onto his.  
  
Then, from the back of the common room, Harry saw a dark figure emerge. Just before the full height appeared, the fire was extinguished. Harry froze with fear as his forehead began to seer with pain. There was a scream, and Cho hit the floor, falling from Harry's embrace. A blinding light flashed, and he felt his forehead burst with pain worse than he had felt, including when he was in the presence of the Dark Lord. He fell to the floor, just as Cho has done, and began to quiver, as Wormtail had done with his severed arm.  
  
He awoke. It was not quite dawn, and yet he felt as rested as he needed to be to face another day. Odd this would happen, he thought to himself as he rubbed his forehead feverishly. This same pain had awoken him not one year ago. Suddenly, a sickening thought came to his mind. His scar only hurt when The Dark Lord was present. Harry grabbed his wand from where it lay on the nightstand. He knew he wasn't allowed the use of magic outside school grounds, but this was a matter of life and death. Dumbledore would understand.  
  
Harry walked slowly to the door.  
  
"Lumos!" Harry whispered, as he opened the door of his room.  
  
Wand alight, Harry stepped into the hall. He trekked to Dudley's room, expecting to hear snores. Silence. He passed up Dudley's room and went to his Aunt and Uncle's. Silence. Harry opened the door to the room. Silence. What was going on? Why was the house suddenly void of its usual noises? Harry stepped further into the room, drew his breath, and shouted at the top of his lungs.  
  
"Hey! What's going on?" No response.  
  
"I'm going to take the car and smash it into the neighbor's house!" He shouted. Still no response.  
  
This was down right scary. He flipped on the light switch and ran to the bed. No one was there. He ran from the room to Dudley's. No fat boy lay there. His wonderful dream had awoken into a nightmare. He ran from the room, and down the stairs, four at a time. He leapt into the den, in complete panic, and then froze. He flipped the light on slowly, ever so slowly. There, before him, were three people lying on the floor, terrified looks on their faces. As the information of what had happened while he was dreaming of Cho registered in his mind, Harry blacked out, and fell to the floor.  
  
Morning came, and Harry came to. He was extremely groggy, and he felt as if he has slept on Snape's dungeon floor. He moved his left leg to his left, as if to put it on the floor by his bed. But it wasn't there. There was only carpet. Harry, realizing this, fell to earth. He found himself on the den floor. He stood himself up, examined himself, and looked around. Then, once again, the information of the events of the night before registered, and there was a harsh realization.  
  
Questions zoomed through Harry's mind as he walked back up stairs, to shaken and groggy to run. What are the Muggle police going to do? Where would he go? Where would he live? And then, Draco Malfoy popped into his head, and Harry nearly vomited on the spot. He could hear Malfoy going on about this for years to come.  
  
Now he arrived at his destination. His room. This room held Hedwig, his snowy owl. He planned to send a letter, via Owl Post, to Ron. His father was apart of the Ministry Of Magic! Surely he could get his out of this mess. So, he went to his nightstand, pulled out a piece of parchment, and dipped his quill into an open inkbottle. He began to write:  
  
Dear Ron,  
  
You'll never believe the fix I'm in this time. I woke this morning with my scar hurting, just like last year, except worse. I ran to my Dudley's room, and then to my Aunt and Uncle's. They were all gone. I ran to the den, and there they lay. Dead. From the Avada Kadavra Curse I suspect, but I can't see any reason why, if this is the work of You-Know- Who, he didn't come after me. But, they are all dead, and I fear what the police will do. Your dad is pretty high in the Ministry Of Magic, so I thought I'd try him. Send help if possible as soon as possible!  
  
--Harry  
  
Harry rolled up the parchment, walked over to Hedwig, and tied it to her leg. Hedwig seemed unshaken by the night's events, and she nipped at his fingers appreciatively as he finished attaching the letter. Hedwig flew off into the morning, and Harry felt slightly at ease.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry awaited Ron's response by pacing back and forth around his room, thinking hard at all the options and choices he will make and what will happen. Three hours after he had sent Hedwig, Harry saw an enormous bird emerge in the distance. This was defiantly not Hedwig. It couldn't be Pigwigdon, could it? But before Harry could finish his thought, the enormous bird had landed and was waiting patiently. Harry pulled the letter from the owl's leg, and read:  
  
Harry,  
  
I can't believe it! Anyway, here's a pouch of Floo Powder. You know how to use it.  
  
--Ron  
  
Harry Felt the velvet bag of Floo Powder, then put it in his pocket. His scar was still hurting, but it had become bearable. He turned around. But, instead of seeing the door of his room, he saw a black-robed figure levitating in front of him.  
  
  
  
  
  
(a/n: This is a joint account between two friends! We are alternating chapters. So, if it takes awhile to get a chapter up, it's her fault not mine! I, Josef, have the odd numbered chapters and Ally has the even numbered chapters!) 


	2. Return of Two Enemies

Chapter Two: Return of Two Enemies  
  
    Harry was frozen with fear.  The vile creature that had killed his family was standing before him, again.  Already he was feeling the life drain out of him, as if he could never be happy again.  And he could hear screams, distant and fuzzy at first, then becoming closer.  As Harry sunk to the floor, he could hear the screams becoming louder.  He could make out a voice..."Run, Lily!  Protect  
  
Harry!"  
  
    Harry felt as if all energy he ever had was no longer within him.  And yet, there was a small voice in the back of his head, something telling him to use common sense.  Something telling him to use his wand...but how could he, when all he could hear was the anguished screams of his dying father?  How could he...  
  
"Y-y-you're n-not...V-v-v-v...y-y...YOU'RE JUST A DEMENTOR!"  
  
    The cloaked figure seemed unaffected by Harry's sudden outburst, yet Harry felt as if he had just been fed one hundred Chocolate Frogs.  He could feel the Dementor trying to win him over, and yet somehow Harry had regained his strength and now held a shiny wand in his right hand.  Trying to ignore the draining feeling threatening to take him over once more, he waved his wand in a circular motion, concentrating on the rush of flying on his broomstick.  The exhilarating feeling he felt whenever he won a game of Quidditch, and the appalled look on Draco Malfoy's face.  And he could envision Cho, smiling at him, her eyes sparkling.  
  
    "EXPECTO PETRONUS!" exclaimed Harry, pointing his wand at the Dementor. He saw the brief appearance of a silver stag before the Dementor shriveled into nothingness, leaving behind its cloak.   
  
    Trembling with exhaustion, Harry sat on his bed.  He hadn't had an encounter with a Dementor since his third year, and had forgotten how draining a Patronus spell could be.  How had a Dementor appeared out of nowhere into his room...?  It didn't seem possible!  
  
     
  
"The Floo Powder," he said aloud, realizing he had gotten off-track.  He could tell Ron about the Dementor once he got to the Weasley's.  For now, he needed to get to the Weasley's.  They were probably worried sick about him.  
  
    Harry fumbled around, searching for the bag of mysterious powder.   
  
Finally, he found it.  He tossed it into roaring fireplace, wrinkling his nose as he jumped into the crackling flame.  He never liked traveling by Floo Powder, but at the moment it was his only choice.  His wand was still in his right hand, and he intended to keep it that way. Harry supposed that, since Hedwig was not the owl that returned, she was safely residing in the Burrow.  Fred and George could come back to his house and get his schoolbooks later.  For now, he needed to get to Ron's.  
  
    "THE BURROW!" he shouted loudly and clearly.  He felt, for a moment, very light-headed.  Elated, even.  As if he had suddenly grown wings and an entire blue sky was open to him.  As he felt himself being whisked away, Harry Potter found himself grinning - almost stupidly.  He didn't want to think about the fact that he had never felt this way with Floo Powder before.  He could hear the little voice in his head telling him to stop grinning like an idiot and come back to reality, but he didn't have a chance to listen to it as his thoughts were invaded by blackness.  
  
*~*  
  
    When he awoke, Harry's feeling of elation had not disappeared.  In fact, he couldn't remember anything that had happened before in his life.  All he could think of was this happy dizziness, as if he were drunk, and the voice in his head, telling him to bow before Lord Voldemort.  Yeah, sure, why not?  
  
    Harry was almost on his knees when a thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. It was very brief, yet it simply told him no. "No," it said.  Do not bow before Voldemort. Part of him wanted to ignore this voice.  Why should he listen to it, anyway?  That voice, that thought, that brainstorm could ruin his state of joy.  Anyway, what was wrong with Lord Voldemort?  Voldemort was magnificent, Voldemort was powerful, and Voldemort was perfection.  He had no reason not to bow before him.  
  
    Harry Potter, the sworn enemy of Voldemort, bowed before the resurrected creature.  He could hear instructions in his head, as if he was reading a script.  He was to say he pledged his full loyalty to the greatness of Lord Voldemort, and that the scum of James and Lily Potter never had any right to live.  
  
    Suddenly, it was as if Harry had fallen from heaven and back down onto earth. He crashed to the floor, both mentally and physically.  The scar on his forehead was burning with intense pain.  Yes, his scar.  The scar that Voldemort gave him when he tried to kill him, after he killed his parents.  
  
    Everything was clear now.  Harry remembered everything that had happened, up to using the Floo Powder.  And now he could see.  It was as if, before, a shining light blinded his vision.  But now, before his very eyes, was Lord Voldemort.  His thin, scant body was covered with loose, black robes.  His face remained covered, except for his red, glowing eyes.  He had a human frame, perhaps, and he was once a human, but the creature that stood before Harry was anything but human.  
  
    The voice still rang in Harry's head, still ordering him to pledge his loyalty and say his parents never deserved life.  But the feeling of elation had left Harry, and he now knew what was going on.  The undead figure in front of him had used an Imperious curse upon him, a stronger one than he had ever experienced, hoping to gain control.  And, for a few fleeting minutes, he did.  
  
    Harry hoisted himself off of the dirty floor, not bothering to look at his surroundings.  He could see the Dark Lord's radioactive eyes widening in surprise.  Harry was glaring at him, mouthing the words, "No! I will not give into you, scum!"  
  
    It was then that Harry noticed that his wand, which now seemed to be glowing, was still in his right hand.  And now, it was pointing at Voldemort. 


	3. Panic At The Burrow

Chapter Three: Panic at the Burrow  
  
Harry now came to realize his surroundings. He was at the Burrow! But where was Ron? Where was his family? What was he doing, wand glowing, pointed at You-know-who? This was all very strange.  
  
Suddenly, there was a great crash in Harry's mind. He felt himself shake, and then. He awoke. He saw the ceiling. It was a familiar ceiling, one that he rarely ever looked at. It was the Burrow, again.  
  
"Harry," came the calm, gently voice of Mrs. Weasly.  
  
"You all right?" said Ron, cutting the moment of silence.  
  
Harry felt extremely out of place.  
  
"Yeah. I'm all right. Wu - wu - happened? Harry said, slurring his words out of confusion. He felt as if he had been hit over the head.  
  
"You used the Floo Powder, and landed here. Unconscious. I wanted to test some of my joke stuff on you, but Mum wouldn't let us!" said George, jokingly.  
  
Harry got to his feet and locked around. He was at the Burrow, a friendly and familiar place for him, a place of refuge.  
  
"Sit down, Harry, sit down. Tell us what happened," Mrs. Weasly said, eager to hear what had happened.  
  
"What happened with what?" Harry asked, puzzled completely.  
  
"Oh, dear. Someone's used a memory charm on him. We'll have to wait for Arthur to get home. He knows the counter curse."  
  
The strange clock the Weaslys had showed Mr. Weasly's location as "work."  
  
"C'mon upstairs, Harry. You look exhausted." Ron said, with obvious concern. Harry followed Ron to the stairs. They became to climb.  
  
"Heck of a dream, huh, Harry?"  
  
"What?" Harry said, still in confusion about the past's events. He remembered waking up from sleep at the Dursley's, then waking up at the Weasly's. What had happened in between? These thoughts plagued Harry while they climbed the stairs to Ron's room.  
  
"Oh, yeah. You say you can't remember. C'mon Harry, you can tell me. We're friends. What happened? What's the whole story?" Ron pleaded.  
  
"I told you I don't remember!" Harry said, in near fury. He greatly disliked being contradicted.  
  
"Oh, alright." Ron said, a mix of disappointment and mischief in his voice.  
  
Finally they reached Ron's room. Harry was not at all surprised at what he found: A HUGE poster of Viktor Krum, Pigwidgeon flying and hooting madly around the room, and that certain touch of disorganization that was his memory of Ron's room.  
  
"Have you written to Sirius yet?" Ron asked, excited that he might have thought of something Harry hadn't.  
  
"About what?" Harry said, frustrated about his lack of knowledge.  
  
"Oh come off it! You know damn well what happened and I want to know!" Ron said, indignantly.  
  
"I told you, I HAVE NO IDEA!"  
  
This argument carried on for a good while. It was interrupted as Mr. Weasley arrived. Both of them dropped their argument and leapt down the stairs.  
  
"Oh, Arthur, thank goodness you're here!" Mrs. Weasley said to Mr. Weasley as he entered.  
  
"Why? What's happened?" Said Mr. Weasley, with calm concern.  
  
"Well, Harry sent me a letter by Owl saying that the Dursley's were murdered by You-know-who and that he was scared that the police -" Ron began shouting, but he was interrupted by Harry's mad confusion in words  
  
"The Dursley's? Murdered? Why the HELL didn't you tell me? Ron! What's- -- What's going on here?" Harry shouted, panic stricken and extremely confused.  
  
"Look what you did, Ron!" said George, blaringly.  
  
"What's all this?" Mr. Weasley said, now beginning to panic. Harry fell to the couch, nearly hyperventilated. Harry heard Mr. Weasley say "It's okay, Molly, let him be. It will make things easier," and then blacked out once again.  
  
Ron couldn't take seeing his best friend like this, so he announced "I'm going up to my room." And with that, he walked off, his parents, Fred, and George not paying any attention to what Ron had said. The two missing siblings, Percy and Ginny, were missing for different reasons. Percy was at the Ministry, boiling over the high rise of illegal magical objects being smuggled into the country. Ginny was in her room. She refused to come out for reasons unstated, but they all knew she had a crush on Harry. They figured she was too upset to see Harry this way, as Ron was. But this was not the current matter.  
  
Mr. Weasley was trying hard to remember the memory modification counter-curse. He was scratching his chin and sighing dramatically. Harry still laid there, unconscious, with Fred, George, and Mrs. Weasley looking at him with worried looks.  
  
Finally, after great deliberation, Mr. Weasley raised his wand and said "Finite Incantum!" Harry twitched madly for a moment, as if throwing a fit, and then relaxed.  
  
Mr. Weasely waited a moment, then said, with great emphasis, "ENERVATE!"  
  
Instantly, Harry sprang to life, as if he had been shocked with a thousand volts of electricity.  
  
"Wu - wu - THE BURROW! I've got to get to the burrow!" Harry shouted. "Where's - " But he stopped mid sentence because he realized where he was.  
  
"Harry, you're alive!" Fred said, with relief.  
  
"Of course he is. Don't be such a prat." said George, trying hard to show his own relief.  
  
"I - I made it!" Harry said, amazed.  
  
"Calm down, Harry, calm down. Now, tell us what happened before you stepped into the flame," said Mr. Weasley.  
  
"Well, let me see.Oh yeah. I woke up from this wonderful - " Harry Began  
  
"What was it about?" Mr. Weasley asked, as if this was a vitally important piece of evidence to unravel this mystery.  
  
"Er. I don't remember." Harry lied. He didn't wasn't about to confess his fantasy to his best friends father. "But, anyway, I woke up from this wonderful dream with my scar hurting, worse that it usually hurts when You- know-who was supposedly around. I got up to find the house absent of the usual sounds. I went into Dudley's room, and he wasn't there. I went to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's room. They weren't there either. I went down stairs, and there they were. On the floor - " Tears swelled up in Harry's eyes, he powerless to stop them. He wiped his face, drew his breath and said with a blank, teary look on his face, "dead." Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in shock at this point.  
  
"Oh, Molly. This is terrible." Mr. Weasley said, in a low, worried voice.  
  
"What are we going to do, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley said.  
  
"Notify Professor Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge, and -" He spoke slowly, and then paused. Then even slower, he said, "Sirius Black." 


End file.
